Bragging Rights
by RaptorChicky
Summary: Collection of ficlets and drabbles Chapter 3: Daredevil tries to stop the Punisher. It goes as well as expected... Inspired by the recent character artwork promos
1. Chapter 1--Bragging Rights

**Summary:** All it takes is the latest issue of Cosmo to make Matt wish he'd never gotten out of bed...

 **Warnings** : Some language, double entendres abound, and alcohol was involved in the original conception of this piece. Not entirely MCU compliant, and Karen is in the know.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters mentioned within, and I put them back once I was finished.

.

.

* * *

 **Bragging Rights**

Matt could hear the laughter long before he reached the office and it just increased as he made his way up the narrow stairwell. In his mind, he could picture Karen and Foggy huddled together at her desk, hunched over and looking at _something_ while whispering and snickering and giggling with each other. That giggling came to an end when he turned the door knob, only to be replaced by frantic hissing from both parties along the lines of "He's here—shhh!—shuddupshuddupshuddup—no, you shut up!"

"Matt!" Foggy cried brightly, doing a terrible job of hiding the laughter in his voice. "How you doing this morning?"

Pursing his mouth, "Not as well as you two, apparently," Matt adjusted his glasses. "Do I want to know what was so funny?" He paused and gave a few discreet sniffs, "Are you… Are you reading Cosmo…?"

"How—?"

He sat on the edge of Karen's desk and tapped the magazine. "All the perfume inserts and the glue they use. Did they put some really interesting sex tips in there this time?"

"Not quite…Karen, you tell 'im."

Karen squeaked when Foggy poked her. "Me? You're the one who bought it!" Another squeak slipped out of her. "Fine. Foggy spotted that Cosmo has a new reader poll and he just _had_ to buy a copy…" Matt could hear how her smile increased with every word.

"I'm almost afraid to ask…"

"'Cosmo's First Annual NYC's Sexiest Superheroes!'" A normal blind man could picture the broad shit-eating grin on Foggy's face. "And guess who's in it?!"

"Oh no…"

"Oh yes! They got pictures and everything—yours aren't as good as Stark's, so maybe you can go in and pose for them next year…"

Karen ignored the exasperated noise that escaped Matt and tossed her two cents in. "Oh, we could do the photo shoot ourselves! But it would have to be in your first outfit, Matt."

"The urban ninja outfit? Really?"

Karen's vigorous nod towards Foggy was easy to pick up on. "Trust me…"

"Well…ok…I'll trust your opinion on what ladies find hot. I guess I can start scouting for locations…"

"I really don't think this is nec—"

"Shut up, Matt! Karen and I are just looking out for your wellbeing, and we're gonna be damn sure you get bragging rights next year!"

"And what makes you think I won't get them this year…?" sighed Matt.

"You've got some pretty good competition here, Matt…" Karen's fingers slid across the glossy pages as she flipped through them. "They have your friend Clint in here…who is 'sure to hit ALL the right spots…'"

"…What?"

"Tagline, buddy. They came up with taglines for everybody." A light scraping noise accompanied Foggy dragging the magazine in front of him. "Let's see… 'Black Panther: We would like to make this big cat purr…' I can't believe I just said that." He flipped a few pages. "'Thor: We wouldn't mind if he dropped the hammer on us.' Oh my god." Another page. "'Quicksilver: Let's hope there are a few things he does slow…' Really?" He flipped back a number of pages. "'Spiderman: Wonder what kind of swinger he really is?' What kind of deprived soul comes up with these things?" Foggy hummed to himself as he flipped through a few more pages, "Now where is it…? Ah, here it is! Daredevil… Wanna know what it says?"

Matt removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not really…" He didn't know why he even bothered to say "no"—he'd lost this battle the moment he got out of bed.

Karen's phone buzzing prevented Foggy from answering and the blonde immediately checked her text. "That was Claire. She says 'yes' and that she voted for you."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Yes? Yes what?"

Foggy snickered. "'Daredevil: We know he's a devil in the streets, but is he a devil in the sheets?'"

"Oh my god…" Matt's face fell into his hand as Foggy's laughter filled the office.

Leaning across the desk, Karen patted Matt's knee. "Don't worry—I'll vote you." She was laughing too.

"Pft!" Foggy snorted. "That's because you're biased!"

"Well…yeah! He does sign my paychecks!"

Matt groaned and pushed himself off Karen's desk. "I'm not listening to this anymore," he muttered as he headed into his office.

"Hey, Matt!" Foggy called after him. "Would you get mad if I voted for Captain America?"

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

 **A/N:** _**I**_ AM THAT DEPRIVED SOUL! Apologies for this piece of crack, but I blame the liquor, and the desire to make Matt into a butt monkey. Never mind he deserves all the grief he gets from Foggy and Karen... And since he more or less owns the rights to all the Spiderman pictures, I can see Peter, after Cosmo contacts him, heading out and taking some sex-ay pictures of himself (and probably getting caught in the process). I can't take credit for DD's tagline, but it was too good to pass over-its a tag from someone I follow over on Tumblr but I can't remember who! I did have a couple more hero taglines, but I felt I had enough in that block of text, but here they are:

Winter Soldier—Bet this soldier could keep your bed warm all winter long (Not my idea-a friend came up with it)

Captain America—He'll make you stand up and salute (Ehhhhhh...I could probably come up with something better...)

My perverted little mind could honestly not come up with one for Tony or Sam Wilson, and I was brain farting on coming up with any other heroes, but if any of you gentle readers have any other ideas, I wouldn't mind seeing them in the reviews... (hinthint) Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2--Intervention

**Summary:** As a child, Matt always heard "Be careful of the Murdock boys—they got the devil in 'em!" Matt finds out just how wrong they were…

 **Warnings:** If your delicate sensibilities can't handle a few naughty words…

 **Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

 **A/N:** Bragging Rights was originally meant to be a one-and-done sort of fic, but I've had more ideas run through my head since then, and I'm  slowly putting them in a more reader friendly format (vs doing something more productive, like doing my geophysics homework…), so now Bragging Rights will end up being a collection of various drabbles and ficlets, most of which won't be interconnected. (Although I am bouncing around ideas for a follow-up for Chapter 1…). More a/n at the bottom.  
.

.

 **Intervention**

Matt isn't entirely sure what has just happened. He can recall fighting alongside the Black Widow, taking on a swarm of HYDRA agents, the two of them running, and then...and then…something. Maybe. He's not sure, but he knows he's missing something. What he definitely can't recall is how he got back to New York, back to a small Hell's Kitchen park he can remember from his childhood, before everything went dark. He can't recall changing into a pair of his favorite jeans and one of his more comfortable shirts, or why he is completely barefoot. And Matt definitely can't recall why all of his senses feel like they've been numbed and why he can fucking see.

"I figured it was time we met."

Matt jumps at the new voice behind him, and spins on his heels and starts to go down into a defensive crouch, only to freeze when he lays eyes on what is probably one of the most painfully beautiful beings he's ever encountered, and his mind simply can't truly comprehend what he's seeing, but he's quite sure people aren't supposed to glow.

"Who the hell are you?" he snaps. Matt knows he's being rude, and he really can't make himself care—there's some weird shit going on and he wants to know why. "And why am I here?"

"I have many names, but you can call me Askrasiel." And there's that strange voice again. It has an other-worldly quality to it, as if multiple individuals, both male and female, are speaking in unison.

"That doesn't really help me."

Askrasiel gives a weary sigh. "Oh, to be a foot note in those ancient history texts of yours…" The glowing being backs up a few steps and lowers itself onto a swing. "But, who am I? I've been with you since the accident. I'm that fire that curls in your belly when you sense somebody is getting screwed over. I'm the fury that burns through you when you hunt down the cruel and unjust. I'm that simmering satisfaction once justice has been meted out." During Askrasiel's little speech, Matt can feel his heart constricting tighter and tighter, until it hurts to breathe. _Oh, god, no… Is this—_ Before Matt can voice his fears, Askrasiel's head cocks, "No, Matthew. I'm not that inner demon you've been so afraid of. And if you're looking for a pronoun, 'he' will do just fine… Though I don't know why it should matter, angels don't exactly follow the gender system you mortals have insisted on setting up…"

"Angels? You're- You're an angel?!" Matt needs to sit, now, before he crashes, and he ends up dropping onto the swing next to Askrasiel. To keep from tipping over, his hands tighten painfully around the chains. "But, I was always told—"

"Your grandmother always had some interesting ideas, but I have no idea where she got that one," the angel happily interrupts. "No devil in this particular Murdock boy—quite the opposite really! But think about it, Matthew: if you truly had a devil residing inside of you, you'd take pleasure in sowing chaos and witnessing injustice."

Matt's tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, and the chains creak slightly as he flexes his grip on them. "…But I hurt people. Granted, they're not good people, but I still hurt them, badly. And I shouldn't take pleasure in that!"

The angel fixes Matt with a dry look. "Do you seriously think the heavenly host takes on the forces of hell with nothing more than a few verses of Kumbaya, a couple handfuls of glitter, and maybe a few unicorns? Not all angels are those harmless looking cherubs that Raphael doodled all over that little chapel of his—think about the archangel Michael. And while those billy clubs of yours don't quite measure up to a flaming sword, I can definitely appreciate it when you make sure a criminal can't eat solid food for a few months, or prevent them from holding another gun, or make them think twice before they consider hurting another person."

Matt can think of nothing to say to that, so he just nods. "You said you've been with me since the accident… Does that make you my guardian angel? Are you the reason my senses are the way they are? And why haven't we met before now?"

"Your senses? No. That's all on whatever those chemicals were, though the amount you were exposed to should have killed you, or at the very least, left you brain-damaged. I was passing through, and I didn't find it very fair that a child who'd just performed a rather selfless act could possibly have his life cut short, so I…sort of…intervened… The Boss," Askrasiel's long-fingered hand motions sky-ward, "insisted that since I acted a bit outside my job description, I was to stay with you for the remainder of your life." The guilt must be obvious on Matt's face, because the angel reaches out and lays a gentle hand on the young man's hunched shoulder—the thrill that contact brings to Matt's body is indescribable—and gives him a reassuring smile. "Don't feel bad about it. What's a human lifespan to something that's been around since even before the existence of time itself? And I rather enjoy being back in the trenches, so to speak-I suspect Michael is a bit jealous. And the irony of how you dress up is also quite delightful.

"As for our lack of contact? You come close when you meditate. Why do you think you're able to heal so much quicker than other mortals? But, I'm afraid that's as close you'll get, unless there are some special circumstances…"

Matt perked at this—if he could figure out how, maybe he could—

"I'll be rather disappointed if you put yourself into situations that would lead to us having another chat, Matthew" the angel chastised, leading to Matt to duck his head. "I'd be happy if we never speak again for another 5 decades or so. Just know that you do not have to be afraid of that righteous fury that simmers inside of you. Take a moment, collect your thoughts, and weigh your options—I will not steer you wrong."

The pair fall silent for a few minutes, the only noise a rhythmic metallic squeaking as Askrasiel gently rocks himself back and forth on his swing. Matt's mind is oddly blank, despite the revelation of having his own personal guardian angel—he's going to need time to process this. In the meantime, he takes advantage of his fully functional eyes and slowly scans his surroundings. He spends a large amount of time just staring at the grass—he's forgotten green and he wants to sear the image into his brain before everything is sure to turn back to flame again. Other colors get committed to memory: the bright orange of a traffic cone, the white of a near-by pick-nick table, the deep purple of an iris. Then he sends his eyes up, towards something he's wanted to see for almost 20 years, and his vision starts to go blurry. Matt forces himself to look away from the sky and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, forcing the tears away. Once he feels like he's back under control, Matt turns back to face Askrasiel, wanting to know what exactly he's missing.

"You still haven't told me what I'm doing here."

The shining figure next to Matt tilts its head, and a fine eyebrow arcs up. "Because, Matthew, you have a choice to make."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"—pulse! We got a pulse!"

Foggy can hear Dr. Cho's voice cut across the chaos in the OR beyond the swinging doors, and all strength bleeds out of his legs. He manages to catch himself on an adjacent wall and sinks to the floor, not even thinking of holding back the tears of relief running down his face. _Matt's alive. Matt is_ _alive_ _._

.

.

 **A/N:**

In case you haven't figured it out, Matt was roped into some Avengers mission, bad shit went down, and he flat lined on the operating table in the Avenger's Tower. (That so goes beyond me making Matt a butt monkey…I firmly booted him into butt gorilla territory… Sorry Foggy.)

Askrasiel is another name for Raguel, who, according to Judaic traditions, is the archangel of justice, vengeance, fairness, and harmony. Raguel isn't as well-known in Christian lore as other archangels, like Michael, Raphael, or Gabriel, which is why Matt doesn't really recognize the name (Though Google or Father Lantom will that clear that up. Cue Murdock BSOD.) Askrasiel is supposed to help people overcome mistreatment, bring order out of chaos, and help bring an end to the injustices of neglected and oppressed people. He is most often shown holding a judge's gavel. What better angel for Matt to cohabit with? (While writing Askrasiel, I kept picturing Metatron from "Dogma", but I doubt I could ever bring the same dry wit and sarcasm Alan Rickman brought to that role, nevermind I left Askrasiel's appearance deliberately vague—angels don't exactly have a set form.)

Just another random idea that needed to let out, but feedback is welcome!


	3. Chapter 3--Links

**Summary:** Daredevil tries to stop the Punisher. Things goes as well as expected… Inspired by the recent Daredevil Season 2 Character Artwork promos (For the Daredevil one, just punch in the basic URL for youtube, then add: /watch?v=C7zrsh-rQII )

.

.

 **Links**

Matt's senses were shot to hell and back as he struggled towards consciousness, but that tended to happen after a crowbar was slammed into the back of one's head. Fighting back nausea and dizziness, he slowly took stock of what his fuzzy senses were telling him about his surroundings—the rough brick at his back, his arms pinned behind him, the countless loops of heavy chain securely holding him upright, and…

Castle. Frank Castle not 10 feet in front of him.

"'Bout time you woke up…" The larger man closed the gap between them, kicking aside Matt's dropped batons. "I was starting to get worried."

Matt strained against his bonds, and started to open his mouth, but Castle jabbed the hooked end of his crowbar up against Matt's chin, forcing his head up and back.

"Shut up. No more pretty words out of you tonight—all of your talk of morality and the higher ground means nothing to me. The justice you want is just some naïve pipedream. The only justice those animals out there understand comes from a bullet, and I intend to deliver, without you getting in the way. And you should be happy I even left you this…" Castle tapped the crowbar lightly against the forehead of Matt's armored cowl, making him wince. "Or that I didn't call the cops to come and pick you up. I'll be calling somebody else instead."

It took a moment for Matt to recognize the small shape in Castle's free hand, and when he did, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach—Castle had found his burner phone. There were only two numbers on it, but Matt didn't want the Punisher getting anywhere near either one of them. "Dammit Castle! Don't do—" Matt was silenced again, not by a crowbar (which had been dropped by this point), but by Castle smashing his hand against Matt's mouth, slamming Matt's head against the brick chimney in the process. Matt twisted against this new indignity, but Castle's large hand kept a bruising grip on Matt's jaw, muffling Matt's pleas completely, and even preventing him from trying to bite Castle. Matt kept struggling as he heard the phone ring, praying that whichever number Castle had dialed, that they wouldn't pick up, but of course, the Fates never smiled down on him like that…

"Oh god, what stupid crap have you done now…?" came Foggy's heavy sigh.

Matt froze, utterly horrified. _Oh God, nonononononono! Not Foggy! No!_ At the thought of Frank Castle even laying eyes on Foggy, Matt's struggles intensified, and he almost managed to wrench his face free, but Castle leaned in, pressing most of his weight onto Matt.

"He got in my way," Castle rumbled. "You can pick up your boy up on the roof of 46th and 11th. Might want to bring a bolt cutter."

"What? Bolt cutter? Who is this?! If you've hurt him, I'm gonna—"

Castle hung up and closed the burner phone with a sharp snap, and released Matt. "Think I'm gonna keep this…" He waggled the phone before shoving it into one of his pockets. "Wouldn't hurt to have access to someone who can remind you what happens when you decide to be a pain in my ass."

"If you hurt him, Castle, I swear I will—"

"Relax, Hornhead. I have better things to do tonight than hassle one of your little club mates. But, for now, just enjoy the view." Castle gave Matt a few sharp pats to the cheek before scooping up his crowbar, and then retrieved the rest of his gear. He left, leaving Matt behind to struggle against the chains and to cry out in helpless frustration.

.

.

 **A/N:** So, who else is excited af for Season 2? And it's less than a month away! Saw the promo that I linked to above and I just HAD to write this, so apologies for it being un-beta'd and rushed. (But thank you Netflix for making kinky Daredevil fans happy since 2015, even happier since 2-18-16! stupid grin) Any comments are welcome!


End file.
